


A Joy To Come

by kitagod



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: AtsuHina Week 2020, Atsumu is a flower lover, Atsumu is thinking, Flowers, Happy Ending, M/M, Miya Atsumu plucking flower petals, Osamu appeared 2 times and each one lasts 0.1 secs, Pining, Uncertainty, i guess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-12
Updated: 2020-06-12
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:07:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24673585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kitagod/pseuds/kitagod
Summary: From the mud come flowers as golden as sunshines, flourishing and vigorously blooming as candle flames that burn warm and long. Hinata to him, is a celandine, meaning a “joy to come”.---In which Atsumu matches Hinata to a flower every time he meets him.
Relationships: Hinata Shouyou/Miya Atsumu
Comments: 3
Kudos: 47





	A Joy To Come

The first time he lays his eyes on Hinata, he immediately thinks of a flower. Meadow buttercup. 

Reasons? No. He just feels like it, like a sudden realization when you finally understand what the teacher explains for once. As if his brain is suffering from a short circuit and stopping him dead on his track, he can’t help but stare at the orange hair boy staggeringly. He can stand there like a dumb looking statue and admire, no, observe the boy all day long if not for Kita’s calm, yet piercing voice and sharp, cold-eyed stare dragging his pathetic ass back to reality. 

Atsumu might not seem like one, but he loves flowers, especially their undertone meanings. He used to have his mother buy him a whole bunch of Nasturtium after finding out they symbolize victory. He was an ambitious child, winning strikes him with awe, and the same for his lovely flowers. 

He bought books explaining the so-called, “languages of the flowers”, and spent his whole free time reading them in one sit in the midst of the summer heat. It fascinated him in many ways, really, which then led to his habitual thinking- matching a person to a flower. 

He usually judges them on his first impression, except for his family members. His grandma is a daisy, a loyal love. His dad is a violet, for modesty. His mom is a rosebud, beauty and youth. His brother, fuckin' Osamu is a gladioli, which simply means, and as what Atsumu would like his dear brother to do: leave him alone.

Hinata was a meadow buttercup upon the first glance, for it symbolizes ambition, or you can call it hunger. 

The second time he meets Hinata is when the younger just got recruited into Black Jackals. 

A little birdie told him, Hinata had spent years away from home, trying out beach volleyball in Rio. It is as clear as crystal, sun kissed skin covered with tan lines, confidence oozes out from his presence in such a strong flow that takes Atsumu aback. The sheer rawness in his aura, the setter can feel it right into his bones. 

A flower instantly pops up in Atsumu's mind, Persian buttercup. 

Persian buttercup, from what he has read, almost bears the same meaning with his previous perception for Hinata, but with a slight level-up: Beautiful. 

“Atsumu-san, hope I can be in your care!”

Hinata says that to him while grinning from ear to ear, then leaves Atsumu gobsmacked at Hinata's gorgeous features. He has grown in size, with his beefy arms and muscular thighs. Copper eyes shine with pride and inflaming hunger, as if everything is falling down under his feet and hunted to be his prey. He feels weak in the knees, as realization strikes him once again with a force equivalents to a meteor. 

Hopping on his imaginary, fancy carriage, he begins his merry journey on a road full of red roses and tulips on the sides. Love is blooming. 

In the face of adversity, he isn't sure if his feelings are mutual. But nonetheless, he keeps falling and falling into this bottomless pit, until the sun above is nothing but a glimmering dot in the sky. Reaching for it is impossible, going near it is the best he can do. 

His mind traces him back to the day, when his mother told him stories in the softest tone ever, like the flowing rivers hiding in the mountains.

“He plucks out each petal, each one he mutters to himself, “She loves me. She doesn't love me”, and so on. Until the last petal is left, it is what will tell him if the love of his life would reciprocate his feelings or not.”

“And what did it tell, mama?”

“Hm, I don't know", she moved her hand up to caress his hair, her voice was as gentle as a feather kiss, “But you can find it out yourself.”

Atsumu carves those words inside his head like a life lesson he is forced to memorize. However, it grows to be part of his beliefs. 

On a warm Sunday morning when the air is a tad bit too hot, he starts plucking out the petals himself. Like the love-struck man from his mother's story, he mumbles quietly, “Hinata loves me" or “Hinata doesn't love me". 

By nature, when a person is having an irremovable crush on someone, they ought to expect for the feelings to be returned. Atsumu has high hopes, but he refrains himself from going beyond boundaries. They are nothing more than teammates (as of now), there is still some distance and awkwardness in between. He doesn't want to scare Hinata off right away (how can he?) and confess. 

To capture Hinata's heart wholefully, he must wait for the right moment to come, and learn the romantic art of love confessions, quoted by his terrible brother Osamu. Is it nerve-wracking? Of course. Is it worth it? Absolutely. 

And here he is, sprawling on the floor like a dead bug, the AC is running at full blast yet his own anxiety is burning him from the inside. 

The sun hangs high in the sky like a glistening gem, igniting his world with brilliance and unprecedented scintillation. 

Sparing a glance at the sun outside, he let out a deep breath. 

He doesn't have the slightest idea on what to do to make Hinata fall for him. 

From the mud come flowers as golden as sunshines, flourishing and vigorously blooming as candle flames that burn warm and long. Hinata to him, is a celandine, meaning a “joy to come”. 

Celandine has 10 petals, so he will have to pluck ten times. After positioning himself comfortably on the soft mattress, he begins to pluck the petals. The sight of the celandine bit by bit losing all of its colour is painful to watch, but his mind is too occupied to care. 

He starts off with what his heart scares the most, “He doesn't love me.” What a courageous challenger he is, he muses.

He plucks the next one, “He loves me.”

And the third, and the fourth.

And he plucks, and plucks, and plucks, one by one, slowly, unknowingly and unaware of what it will tell. A bubble of agitation rises from the pit of his stomach, as his delicate fingers gently pull off the petals from their bud. 

The last petal floats in the air, “He loves me.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Thank you Kel so much for helping me, please check out her amazing works (AO3: spontaneoushazel). This one is dedicated to Syl and Pedro's rp account (@roomatePedro) on Twitter! Scream with me on Twitter (@kitaricefarmer).


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